Numb
by liferuiner
Summary: The soil has ceased calling his name. When Bolin loses his bending, he can no longer feel a thing.


**A/N: I've been really busy lately so I'm just going to post this little diddy! Original posted to my tumblr avatar-dealwithit. **

_numb_

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Korra sits in the hallway with her back against the wall, Asami beside her, her arm draped around the younger girl's shoulder as she whispers soothing words into her ear. Cuts adorn Korra's face and arms and rips tear into her clothes around her torso, revealing splashes of her coffee-colored skin. Her expression is hidden in her hands, but from the subtle shakes of her body, Mako can tell that she's crying. His eyebrows knit together and he frowns. He's only seen his friend cry once before, breaking down from the pressure of being the Avatar, unraveling under the weight of entire nations that pushed against her, but these tears were composed of a different kind of sadness. The sadness that manifested from self-loathing and blame.

Asami looks up at Mako's approach and she offers him a smile. For once, her lips are not coated in red, instead they are naked and chapped and even her dark hair falls in tangles rather than waterfalls. He returns her smile with a partially forced one of his own before he reaches out to let his fingers brush away the messy strands of hair that tickle Korra's forehead. His thumb sweeps across a small nick that has only just begun to heal and he realizes that this is one he had never noticed before as it had laid unseen near her hairline. Did Tarrlok leave this one, too? Or was it the Equalists, or Amon? Korra's body was slowly transforming into a tree that every enemy had carved their initials onto. Every scar carried the burden of a name.

Korra slowly tilts her head up at Mako's touch, confirming Mako's earlier inspection. Tears well up in her eyes and it's almost as if the blue of her irises are permitting the flow of their oceans to run down her cheeks. "Mako." In just simply uttering his name, Mako knows every invisible sentence that string the letters together. _I'm a failure, Mako. He lost it because I'm a useless Avatar. I couldn't do anything. _

Mako shakes his head, straightening. "Stop, Korra," he tells her, his voice firm. "It's no one's fault. Amon did this. Okay?" She looks away and Asami pulls her closer, resting her head against Korra's. Mako briefly locks his gaze with Asami's, a silent thank-you passing from him to her. Asami nods and Mako places a light kiss on Korra's temple before he crosses to the door a little ways down, turning the handle and pushing it open. If anyone's at fault, it's his.

The first thing he sees is a sleeping Ikki, curled up in a nest of blankets and sheets, breathing softly into the pillow that rests beneath her head. During their stay at the Air Temple, Ikki and his brother had become close and had often engaged in a battle of questions. The young airbender had begun treating him as a sort of older brother, and Mako's heart had softened at the friendship the two had developed. It's only natural that Ikki would be just as worried about him as Mako is.

Bolin leans against the wall, head bent as he stares at his hands. He flexes his fingers, his features patient as he waits for something to occur—nothing. The little brother clenches his hands into fists and bites his lip. Mako closes the door with a click and Bolin turns at the sound. Green capturing amber, amber capturing green. However, this time, the life is absent from both.

There's a moment of silence before Bolin says, "It's really gone." His tone is dripping with bitter humor, and Mako is taken aback by its unfamiliar rhythm. "No matter how hard I try, nothing happens."

Immediately, Mako is engulfed by the desire to comfort his brother. For so long he had made sure Bolin was protected, kept safe, and now, he had slipped in his duties, allowing the unthinkable to happen. His brother has lost a part of him that he can never get back. Mako can't even begin to imagine what it must feel like, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he can guess. It's as if someone has taken a knife to his brother's soul and separated it by halves, stealing the one that glowed brightest.

"Usually," Bolin says softly, "I'd stay optimistic or something. Tell everyone that everything was going to be okay, but I don't know what to do, Mako." His voices catches. "I can't feel the earth, Mako. The connection just isn't _there_ anymore." _Everything's numb._

Then, Bolin becomes that little boy from the streets and he's crying, hands folded tightly over his chest. Mako moves to hug him, rubbing his back because now he's the mother and the father and the brother wrapped up all into one package, consumed with the guilt of three figures. His mouth is a hard line as his brother sobs into the fabric of his shirt.

_I'm sorry, Bo. I should have been there to prevent it. I wasn't there, and I'm sorry._ "Somehow, we'll pull through this, I'll help you. We all will." _I'm sorry I let this happen._

_**He can no longer sense it**_

_**The rocks are no longer whispering**_

_**The soil has ceased calling his name**_

_**The world is quiet**_

_**Water drips from curtains**_

_**Someone smashes the window**_

Soon enough, Bolin grows quiet, hiccupping softly. The little orphan boy. Ten heartbeats pass. Ikki shifts in her sleep. Five more heartbeats. "Is Korra alright?" Bolin asks, voice thick. He pulls away from Mako, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Mako decides to be honest, telling him no. Bolin takes a deep breath and looks up at his brother, a broken smile lifting his mouth. "I'll be fine, Mako." He sighs, heavy. "I have to be, right?" Mako searches his face. He's pretending. Bolin's trying to convince himself that he can pull himself out of the tide, trying not to be sad. Mako wants to laugh. Bolin never wants to be the cause of anyone's grief.

Bolin turns, heading for the door, cracking it open. Korra scrambles to her feet upon seeing the former earthbender. Sorrowful apologies fly out of her mouth like a herd of birds and Bolin hugs her, his eyes rimmed red as he tells her that it isn't her fault, that she wasn't the one who caused this. Mako watches with his hand on the doorframe. They're both a mess. Guilt. Loss.

Asami stands, eyes shifting to Mako. A silent question. _He isn't okay, is he?_

Mako gives a tiny shake of his head. _Neither is she._

Bolin gives a Korra a reassuring squeeze. It's false. "Don't worry, Bolin' still got moves." He tries to make his voice light.

Korra laughs, burying her face in his shoulder. She doesn't believe it, but she wants to.

Mako looks at the floorboards. There's a crack in the wood.


End file.
